


An unexpected gift

by ylc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 19:05:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17249705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylc/pseuds/ylc
Summary: There's something to be said about Sherlock's idea of an appropriate gift.





	An unexpected gift

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the Mystrade Advent Calendar and since it didn't happen, I wasn't a 100% sure I wanted to post it but well… I figured I might as well :P  
> So, without further ado, enjoy!

Mycroft pinches the bridge of his nose in a desperate effort to fend off his incoming headache. He had a hellish day at work (something quite usual on the holidays, unfortunately. Nothing like the “festive” spirit to bring out the worst of people) and he is very much looking forward to a quiet evening by the fire, reading, probably drinking that stupidly expensive scotch he got from the Prime Minister as a gift for all his  _ hard work. _

But of course life rarely plays out as he hopes, particularly not if his little brother has something to say on the matter. Having finally gotten together with Dr. Watson just a couple of months ago, one would think Sherlock is far too busy with his new found love life to spare a single thought about his brother’s more lackluster one, but alas… here we are.

“Good evening, Inspector,” he greets politely, kneeling on the floor and undoing the rather ridiculous ribbon that’s been tied over the poor man’s mouth. “May I inquire how long you’ve been like this?”

“Probably a couple of hours,” Gregory answers with a boyish grin. “I don’t think I can feel my legs any more. Or my arms. Or anything, really.”

Mycroft sighs, continuing to undo the rest of the ties. “I do apologise for my brother’s… antics. I do not know what’s gotten into him,” he says, although that’s not entirely true. He does know what his brother is thinking, but it’s probably not wise to say as much to the good Inspector.

“Oh, you know how he is. I can’t even say I’m surprised,” the Inspector replies, still smiling and Mycroft offers him a small smile too. The man indulges his brother’s childish behavior entirely too much, but Mycroft won’t deny he’s thankful for it. John Watson might have been the last push his brother needed to finally clean up his act, but there’s no denying the role Gregory Lestrade played in his recovery too.

“How did he get you in this particular arrangement, anyway?” Mycroft asks, making a face when he notices the ribbons have got tangled and they’re proving to be a little more difficult to undo than what he had originally imagined.

“I should know better than to accept any drinks from him,” Gregory says with a small shrug, pulling at his ties. “Sorry, I think I made it worse by attempting to escape,” he offers Mycroft an embarrassed smile and Mycroft does his very best to ignore the silly flutter his heart makes.

“It might be wise for you to learn how to get out of situations like this. It might be useful in the job,” he points out, aiming to sound cool and detached, but he suspects he missed the mark entirely.

“Perhaps. I sure hope it won’t, but it might be a good idea. Know any escapists?”

Mycroft rolls his eyes good naturedly. “I happen to be very good at getting out of bounds.” Dear god, why did he say that? Whatever possessed him to say that? What will the Inspector think?

Gregory is staring at him with a most curious expression on his face.  _ Interested,  _ Mycroft would call it, perhaps even  _ lustful _ , except that can’t possibly be it, because the Inspector has never shown any signs of being even remotely receptive to Mycroft’s (rather sad) attempts of flirting, so…

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the kind to hang up mistletoe,” Gregory says, eyes fixed on something over Mycroft’s head and he looks up, just to find a branch of said plant hanging over their heads. “Then again, I would have never had guessed you had a penchant for needing to get out of bounds.”

“I’m not,” Mycroft says, lips pursued in displeasure, staring at the mistletoe. “This must be a continuation of my brother’s idea of a practical joke.”

Gregory hums thoughtfully, letting out a relieved sigh as the final bounds slip down his arms. “Not very funny,” he points out. “God, I really can’t feel my arms.” He attempts to stand up, but his legs fail him and he somehow ends up landing in Mycroft’s lap, who’s sitting on the floor still staring at the offending plant hanging over their heads.

Mycroft looks at his companion then, eyes very wide, feeling like a deer caught in the highlights. “Are you quite alright?” he asks, although that’s not really what he means to ask.

“Yes,” the other man says, not making any move to get off Mycroft’s lap. “My legs are being a little uncooperative, though.”

Mycroft hums. “Perhaps it’s better if you sit down for a while,” he says, his eyes dropping to his companion’s lips on their own accord, much to his horror. Now is not the time to be contemplating such things, he shouldn’t--

“Mycroft?”

“Huh?” he asks, fighting back the blush quickly spreading across his cheeks after noticing he’s been staring.

“I know Sherlock’s sense of humor can be… odd, but it’s there any particular reason why he might have thought wrapping me up like a bloody gift and leaving me underneath your tree would be a good idea?”

Mycroft licks his lips nervously. A lie would be wiser, but-- “Perhaps,” he admits, feeling emboldened, both by the way the Inspector is looking at him and because his companion has shown no desire to move from his place on his lap.

Gregory hums, a small smile playing on his lips. “You know, I think I read somewhere not kissing under the mistletoe was terrible, terrible bad luck. I don’t think either of us can afford to risk it, don’t you agree?”

Mycroft’s heart is doing a valiant effort to escape his chest, but he manages to nod all the same. “Perhaps,” he agrees and the Inspector laughs good naturedly.

“Perhaps, perhaps,” he murmurs, grinning. “Is that all you can say?”

Mycroft grins mischievously. “Perhaps,” he says, earning himself another laugh from his companion.

“No more talking, then,” Gregory says, rearranging himself on Mycroft’s lap so they’re a bit more comfortable. It’s still not ideal, seeing they’re still on the floor and neither of them is young enough for their bones not to protest this arrangement later tonight, but right now it doesn’t seem to matter.

The kiss is tentative, but sweet, soon followed by another, less tentative, less chaste one.

* * *

 

_ Thank you for the “gift”, brother dear- MH. _

_ I trust you found it of your liking?- SH. _

Mycroft doesn’t deign such a silly question with a reply.

**Author's Note:**

> So, thoughts anyone? It was meant to be short and silly, but I hope it was enjoyable? Probably not the most original of ideas, but I rather like it ;)  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought?  
> English is not my native language, so any mistakes you find, please point them out!  
> You can also find me in [tumblr](http://ylc1.tumblr.com/)


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